


Overhead

by florahart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Clint wentover Phil's headfor his requisition.  And Phil is nothavingit.





	Overhead

**Author's Note:**

> At tumblr imagineclintcoulson, they were taking guest writer applications. This is the wee ficlet I wrote for that, for the prompt: their first fight.

“You went _over my head_ for it?” 

Suddenly the conference room went very quiet, and seasoned agents started trying to unobtrusively go out the door. All of them. At the same time.

It was ...not unobtrusive. 

Phil glared around at them, but since no one seemed to be completely sure whether the glare meant _sit your asses down until I tell you you can go_ or _get the fuck out of my sight_ , either of which seemed plausible based on how the glare looked like it might actually generate steam and/or flame at any moment, everyone kept shuffling.

Finally Clint, at whom the original question had been aimed and who was the only one not shuffling because, and Phil wasn’t so far gone he didn’t notice and take a little pride in this, Clint was the kind of badass that had turned a shitshow of a childhood into a legitimate gig as a superhero, glanced around and said, “So maybe, can we have the room? Five minute break?”

Seven senior agents all very, very smoothly made sounds of agreement and statements of needing to take a leak, as though they had not at all all been trying to invisiblate themselves out already, and managed not to get any of themselves stuck in the door by trying to leave two abreast, and then Phil and Clint were looking at each other across the table.

Phil repeated the original question, only this time it was a flat statement that Clint, who knew Phil very well, understood as the simmering outrage indicator it was. “You went over my head for this.”

“Sir. Babe--”

“None of that.”

“Yeah, but see, that’s _why_ I went up the line. I didn’t want anyone to think you were doing me favors.”

“Barton, everyone knows you get specialized gear, and everyone knows they would too if they were a fr--” He barely stopped himself before he said it, because it was one thing for him to echo Clint’s own words for himself when it was in the context of admiration or camaraderie or, and this was the recent setting that had changed everything, sex. It was something else for him to say it in anger.

“Freak of nature reared in literally a barn?”

“I didn’t--”

“Oh, I know. Phil. I _wasn’t worried_ people would think I was blowing you for favors. People think shit about me anyway and half of it’s right, so.”

“So you thought this wasn’t working as well as you’d hoped, and I wouldn’t sign off on it, so you went for the end-run.” 

Phil watched Clint’s face go pink, throat to cheeks to ears, and watched him take the breath he _always_ took before he took a shot. Okay, and now _Clint_ was mad, too. “ _Hell_ no. _No_ , and fuck you very much for even, like, what the hell. First of all if that was what I thought I would make my fucking case because I don’t know if you noticed ever in all the times I let you manage my injuries and shit, but I goddamn _trust_ you, and like, also I _like_ you which you can tell because as everyone says, it’s not like I’ve had an ongoing affair with chastity but I am in fact currently in a monogamous relationship, with _you_ , which I would not bother with if it was just me blowing you for favors, which by the way people are right that is a thing I would do in my life, in general. Just not with you. So yeah, fuck you.”

Phil frowned. “Wait, so--”

“So I apparently against all judgment and good sense like you, and maybe I love you, and also people think all kinds of shit about me and whatever, but they do _not_ get to think you make decisions with your dick so, you know, I asked _someone whose nutsack I did not nibble thoroughly fifteen hours ago_ so there would be no fucking _rumor mill_ about how I _got better equipment again._ Jesus.”

“You were worried about _my_ reputation?”

“Yeah, because robots don’t make decisions based on whether they came so hard they got jizz in their own hair last night, and you, _babe_ , have an image to maintain.”

“...Oh.” Phil unnecessarily picked up the stack of papers on the table and restraightened them. “So, maybe we should talk about this not here, but for future reference...” He cleared his throat. “For future reference, I assumed when people started talking about us that people would always think whatever the fuck they wanted. I’m comfortable with that. However, you are absolutely right that in terms of chain of command, no matter how much I don’t want to share you there should be some checks on my ongoing interest in getting you anything you want.”

“You’re mad because you don’t want to share me? Sir. Wait, no, I mean, Phil. Phil, you are not sharing me. Also, I have to share you with everyone else on the team, so like, no _fair_?”

“Can we talk about this over dinner?”

“Are we still _having_ dinner? Like, people keep telling me it’s a good idea to cool off after a fight. Oh hey, was that our first fight?”

“I hope we’re still having dinner. We can sit in a freezer with it if you’ll feel better, because yes, that was, and I want it to not last any longer.”

“Can the team come back in?”

“We have a minute still. I thought maybe we could... okay this sounds stupid.”

“Hug it out?”

“Something like that.”

“Awesome. Also, is this possessiveness thing, like, a _thing_? Because I’m down with you being the needy one like, every once in a while. Seems only fair. Oh hey, or kiss it out. Kiss.... Mmhm.”


End file.
